


Beginnings

by orphan_account



Series: Nico, Brave and Short (Or, the Adventures of Jean and Marco's Little Boy) [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So much can change in the course of a day.<br/>Three year old Nicolas lost his mother to Titan attack, but he ended up gaining two fathers instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One (Marco)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a fanfic featuring my OC, Nicolas, who is the biological son of Marco Bott and adopted son of Jean Kirschtein. I roleplay Nico on the blog, nico-the-brave.

"Sweetie?"

Nico glanced up from where he had curled himself up into a ball in the furthest corner of the room, his little bony knees drawn up to his chest. Through the hot tears that made his vision swim, Nico could barely see the lady who had spoken to him. He couldn’t make out her face but he knew she was dressed in a military uniform, just like Mama had been the last time Nico saw her.

But this lady wasn’t Mama. She was a stranger, one in a sea of unfamiliar faces that Nico wanted nothing more than to get away from. He wanted familiarity. He wanted…

" _Mama!"_ Nico wailed. The hot tears stung his eyes and ran down his cheeks in torrents. "I want my Mama!"

Nico’s whole world, all that the little boy had known in his past three years of life, had been turned upside down. Mama had gone to work yesterday morning, but she hadn’t come back in the evening, like she always did. Soldiers that wore the same Garrison patch on their uniform as Mama did, had shown up on the doorstep this morning, saying Mama wouldn’t be coming back ever again (though no one had directly told Nico _why_ ) and then there was talk of Titans attacking Wall Rose and _all of this was too much for Nico to bear._

Nico’s little body shook with hiccuping sobs. Hot tears streamed form his eyes and tickled as they ran down his face, but Nico was too distraught to even wipe them away. Absently, he heard the rustling of fabric and the sound of footsteps coming closer. Arms gently wrapped around him.

"Oh, honey, sweetheart," the soldier-lady’s voice was shaky, like she was about to cry, too. "I’m so sorry. I really am. I…I’m sure your Mama was a lovely person, and that she loved you so much. But you’re not going to be alone, sweetie. Your Papa will be here any minute. He’ll take good care of you."

"But I don’t _have_ a Papa!" Nico sniffed. Sure, he remembered Mama mentioning something about a Papa before. "You look just like your Papa" was something Mama rarely said, though, and it was always with a wistful, faraway expression on her face, like she was looking through Nico into a long ago time. Mama might have mad memories associated with this Papa, but to Nico, "Papa" was nothing more than a fictional character; a faraway, faceless person in Nico’s mind who Nico never expected to actually meet.

"Of course you have a Papa," the lady replied patiently, "Everyone has a Papa somewhere, even if we don’t know who they are, or where they are. Why, I—"

The doorhandle turned with a sharp _click._ The lady shifted, turning a little to look over her shoulder. "Squad Leader!" She said.

Nico peeked around the lady to see who the lady was talking to. There was a tall, dark figure in the doorway, dressed in a uniform that bore a patch of the Scouting Legion.

The man’s dark eyes flickered nervously from Nico to the lady holding him. "I’m sorry I’m later than I said, Sasha. I had to give a report to the Commander on the clean up effort with the remaining Titans, and it took me longer than I had expected—"

"It’s nothing to worry about, Squad Leader," the lady—Sasha—said with a soft smile.

"Why are you addressing me so formally, Sasha?"

"The door’s still open, sir."

"Oh." As if just now realizing he was still standing in the doorway, he awkwardly stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He looked at Nico again, before asking Sasha hesitanty, "Was…he any trouble?"

Sasha’s brunette ponytail swished behind her as she shook her head. "Not at all. He’s a little angel. He’s just…confused and scared. Nothing that being with his Papa can’t fix." She smiled, albeit sadly, at Nico.

Nico looked to the man standing before them curiously. Was this man his Papa?

The man’s face twisted into a pinched, guilty-looking expression when Sasha said the word ‘Papa.’ "Of course. Erm…Sasha…does he…? Did someone…?"

"I don’t think so."

"…Ah. Okay, then. I’ll…take it from here, if you don’t mind…"

"Of course." Gently prying Nico off of her with a promise to Nico to see him again soon, Sasha stood and made her way to the door. She paused there for a moment, before looking over her shoulder at the man—Papa?—uncertainly.

"I’m sorry for your loss, Marco." she said quietly.

The man—Papa?—smiled at Sasha, a kind smile that warmed his tired-looking eyes. "Thank you."

With a sad nod, Sahsa disappeared through the doorway. The door clicked softly as it closed behind her.

The man-who-was-possibly-Papa stared at the closed door for a second before slowly turning back to Nico. Nico looked back at him, unsure of whether to be scared or not.

Caustiously, as if afraid of scaring Nico, the man crouched down in front of Nico. "Hey there, buddy," he said softly. His voice sounded kind. "Your name’s Nicolas, right?"

Nico didn’t say anything, only shrinking back into his corner as shyness set in.

"What’s the matter?" the man asked, giving Nico a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, "Kitty-cat got your tounge?"

Nico shook his head.

"Then why don’t you wanna talk to me? Am I scary?"

"No. Mama told me not to talk to strangers."

The man winced a little and looked away, almost shyly. "I…don’t think your Mama would mind you talking to me. You don’t know me, Nicolas, but…I’m your Papa. There’s no doubt about it," he spoke last sentence almost to himself, as he gently wiped calloused thumbs accross Nico’s tear-stained, freckled cheeks.

The man, Nico noted, had freckles, too. And dark hair and brown eyes, just like Nico.

"I _do_ look like you, Papa," Nico said. "Mama said I look like you, but I didn’t know ‘cause I hadn’t seen you before."

"I’m sorry about that, Nico," Papa smiled softly, brushing Nico’s dark bangs out of his eyes, "Your Mama didn’t tell me about you. I didn’t…"

Nico interrupted, "That’s okay, Papa. Mama will be happy to see you! She always looked happy when she talked about you, and—"

"Nicolas," Papa’s expression was pained. "About your Mama…there’s something I need to tell you."

That nervous scared feeling awoke in Nico once again. Something was wrong, Nico knew it. Papa had that same expression on his face that those soldiers had, when they appeared on the doorstep this morning…

"What is it?" Nico asked. He was scared.

"Your Mama…Nicolas, your Mama went to Heaven."

"But, Mama’s coming back. Right, Papa? Mama promised she’d always come back."

Papa closed his eyes. "…No, Nicolas. Not this time."

The soldiers were right, then. Mama wasn’t coming back.

Mama wasn’t coming back.

Mama wasn’t coming back.

"But Mama’s gotta come back!" Nico cried, as tears sprang back into his eyes. The sobs came back, too, building up in his throat and shaking his little body. " _Mama…!"_

Arms wrapped around Nico again. They were strong and firm, and they held Nico close to a broad chest. "I know, Nicolas. I know," Papa’s voice was shaky, "But everything’s going to be all right, I promise." Nico felt a gentle pressure on the top of his head, and he realized Papa was kissing it, over and over again. "It’s going to be all right, Nico. Papa’s here.

"Papa’s here, and as long as he lives, he’s never going to leave you."

　

　


	2. Two (Jean)

Nico buried his face in Papa’s shoulder as Papa carried the little boy to his "new home." Papa tried coaxing Nico into talking by asking him questions or making comments about what his new house was like, But Nico, still very shy of Papa and very uneasy about this whole situation, just shook his head and buried his face deeper into the crook of Papa’s neck. Absently, Nico noticed that Papa smelled like leather, fresh air, and spices. That spicy smell reminded Nico very much of the way Mama smelled, like warm cinnamon and home, and while Nico wanted to cry again at that thought, the little boy also felt ever so slightly comforted by that.

Nico hugged onto Papa even tighter.

"Nico," Papa said, and his voice sounded a raspy and funny, "Nico, buddy, how about you loosen your grip a bit, yeah? I need to breathe."

Slowly, Nico loosened his hold on Papa’s neck. He shyly stole a glance at Papa—at his warm brown eyes and kind smile—and even though Nico buried his face in Papa’s neck again immediately after, this time, it wasn’t out of fear.

\- - - - -

"We’re home," Papa told Nico, as he stopped at the front door of a house. Nico twisted in Papa’s arms to have a look. It was a modest two-story building, neat and well-kept. It looked bright an inviting. Nico felt a little less nervous.

Shifting Nico into one arm, Papa unbuttoned one of the breast pockets of his uniform, fishing out a key. The door unlocked with a sharp _click,_ and the door swung inward with a muted creak.

Papa smiled at Nico as he carried the little boy into the house. "Welcome home, Nico."

Gently, he set Nico down on the scuffed wooden floor. Nico looked around, immensely curious. Directly in front of him, there was a hallway, with a couple of doors on either side. Nico opened the nearest one. That door led to a neat, organized little parlor, with a fireplace and a well-worn overstuffed chair. Nico tried the next door, on the other side of the hall. That one turned out to be less than exciting—a broom closet.

Nico made his way down the hall, opening doors as he did. He uncovered a bathroom and a kitchen, and a linen closet before he found himself at the foot of the stairs at the end of the hall. Nico toddled up the stairs. The stairs creaked behind Nico; Papa was following closely behind.

Nico found two rooms upstairs—a bedroom with a big bed, a dresser, and a closet, and another room across the hall, with another overstuffed chair, a desk, and bookshelves filled with books.

"This is your room, Nico," Papa explained quietly. "Or, it will be once we move the furniture out and get a bed for you. I’m sorry we didn’t have anything ready for you. We…didn’t know about you until yesterday."

Nico cocked his head to the side. "Who’s ‘we?’"

Papa, who had been analyzing the room as if wondering how to rearrange it, looked down at Nico with a look of faint surprise. "Who’s ‘we?’ Oh, erm…myself and Jean."

"Who’s Jean?"

"He’s…" Papa started, but he was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening downstairs. "Actually, I think that might be him now. Come on, Nico." He scooped Nico up in his arms again and carried him downstairs.

Nico craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of this mysterious Jean.

He was standing in the hallway, hanging his tan uniform coat on a peg by the door.

"Marco, I’m home!" he called, not looking up from what he was doing.

"Welcome home, Jean," Papa said. Nico couldn’t understand why his voice suddenly sounded nervous. "There’s someone I’d like you to meet." Papa put Nico down again and put his big hands on Nico’s thin shoulders, gently anchoring the little boy in place.

"Oh?" Jean turned around. He was tall (though not as tall as Papa), lean and muscular, and he had a nice face. A nice face that currently looked surprised.

As if remembering himself, Jean’s mouth turned up into a warm grin. He came up to Nico and crouched down to the boy’s eye level. Nico was surprised; Jean had amber eyes, sharp and alert like a hawk’s, but nonetheless kind.

"And who might you be?" Jean asked. His voice was soft, like he was afraid he’d scare Nico if he spoke any louder.

Nico felt the shyness coming over him again; if Papa hadn’t been holding him in place, Nico probably would have hidden behind his father’s legs. "I’m Nico," the little boy replied, in a small voice. As an afterthought, he added, "Who are _you?_ "

Jean raked a hand through his fluffy mop of blonde hair. "Well, my name’s Jean. I guess you could call me Daddy?" Jean looked up at Papa, as if silently asking permission. The nervous aura that hung about Papa seemed to dissipate somewhat, and he nodded his approval at Jean.

"Daddy?" Nico echoed. He was a little confused and nervous about the prospect of another parent in the picture. This whole day had been topsy, and there had been so many big changes that Nico’s head was starting to spin thinking of it all. But then again, Daddy seemed like a nice person, and Papa seemed to like him, too, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

"It’s nice to meet you, Daddy," Nico said. Shyly, he closed the distance between him and Jean, and gave his new father a hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! :)


End file.
